


The Sinners from the Saints

by alephnull



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Character Study, Dialogue Heavy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 18:17:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18371483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alephnull/pseuds/alephnull
Summary: Mapleshade has some words for Bluestar.Set in the Great Battle in The Last Hope.





	The Sinners from the Saints

Claws rake down the writhing cat’s jugular, drawing rivers of blood as the hunted spills their insides out. An agonised scream is wrenched from the dying’s throat. Their alabaster fur is stained crimson as the cat convulses, desperately clawing at air as if it’s the entire forest killing them, as if scratching their assailant will grant them relief from their torment. Blood foams at their mouth as they fall deathly silent, their limbs stiffening in mortality. Without the urgent cries of the dying cat, only the faint sounds of battle can be heard around them.

When the cat’s flank stops rising and falling, Mapleshade clambers off of her victim, a saccharine smile creeping across her countenance. Another one down, many more to go.

As the wind rushes through her fading fur, Mapleshade feels almost peaceful. She’s more alive than she’s been in countless seasons. This is her revenge. This is StarClan’s price for wronging her and her kits. She feels so free that she could nearly laugh, but she can’t laugh yet, not now; there’s work to be done.

A flash of blue-grey fur whisks past Mapleshade, and she whips around instantly, as if by trained reflex. A loud snarl rips from her lips and she pelts after the cat in pursuit. Blood rushes through her ears, pounding in her head. Killing all the other cats had been fun, leisurely even. But killing this cat—no, killing this cat is true vengeance. Pure, sanguine ire crashes through her veins, flows into her lungs like the very air she breathes; she hates this cat almost as much as she hates Appledusk, almost as much as she hates Ravenwing and Oakstar and Frecklewish—almost as much as she hates herself.

She catches up to the blue-grey cat quickly, and rakes her claws down her enemy’s side. Her enemy whips around immediately, startling blue eyes piercing into amber eyes.

“ _Mapleshade!_ ” Bluestar hisses, unsheathing her claws as a growl slips from her throat. “I’ve heard so much about you. What an honour it is to finally be able to rake my claws through your mangy pelt.”

Mapleshade flashes her teeth, proudly showing off the blood that stains them and the clumps of fur that cling to them like kits to their mother.

“If you’ve heard so much about me, then you must know why I have come for you,” Mapleshade replies, a growl laced through her mew.

Bluestar is crouched, forelegs bent, as though she is preparing to pounce. The she-cats circle each other.

Despite the circumstances of their meeting, Bluestar nods, almost amicably.

“I have heard your story numberless times. Though I have all my quarrels with you today, I have nothing but sorrow for what happened to you and your kits all those moons ago.”

Mapleshade slashes a paw at her, which Bluestar dodges skilfully.

“If you truly felt sorrow for me and my kits, then you would try to right the wrongs that have been committed against me! But no, you are a coward; you sit on your throne of lies, proudly displaying the crown which has never belonged to you. You continue to live your comfortable life because you _can_ and I fucking _can’t_.”

Bluestar opens her mouth to reply, but Mapleshade cuts her off with a furious snarl.

“ _I haven’t finished!_ In case you’ve forgotten who I am, I want to tell you a story.”

Mapleshade paces around Bluestar, hackles raised and tail lifted to the pitch black sky. Bluestar narrows her eyes and matches Mapleshade’s pacing, stride for stride.

“Ah, let’s see. Well, let’s suppose there’s a ThunderClan she-cat. A _loyal_ , capable ThunderClan warrior. Perhaps she meets a RiverClan tom. Perhaps they fall in love. Perhaps they even have three wonderful, perfect little kits together.”

Mapleshade’s face is screwed in anguish as she remembers the sweet, innocent faces of her children. Larchkit’s playfulness and soft, dark brown fur. Petalkit’s endless energy and pale brown fur. And _Patchkit_ , oh, Patchkit… His sweetness, his innocence, his fur so much like his mother’s… They all deserved to _live_. They all deserved to see many more dawns, deserved to grow up and become warriors and fall in love just as Mapleshade had done. They deserved to one day become leaders, to bear Mapleshade grandkits.

But, no. Now they lie buried under RiverClan soil—no longer RiverClan soil, even—never to see the sun ever again. Perhaps they haven’t even made it to StarClan. Mapleshade wouldn’t put it past those fox-hearts to deny half-Clan kits sanctuary in their hunting grounds.

Mapleshade growls again, but this time her growl is heavy with bereavement. Thinking about her kits would have, once upon a time, filled her with energy and fury. Now it just drains the energy from her paws and makes her heart heavy with dread. She has seen too many seasons of pain to believe the naïve elder’s tale of karmic justice. She can’t believe that her revenge will amount to anything at all, but that won’t stop her from trying. The best she can do is to tear out the throat of all who have harmed her kits, or, like Bluestar, mocked Mapleshade by her very existence.

“There are two endings to that tale, Bluestar,” Mapleshade mews evenly. Her meow has lost its bite; hopelessness weighs down her limbs like heavy snow weighs down an oak’s branches. “One of those endings is this: the ThunderClan queen later becomes deputy, then leader still. Her RiverClan mate still loves her, and loves his kits and takes care of them. He becomes deputy too. Then all of the ThunderClan queen’s surviving kits grow up to become deputy, and one of them leader still. That leader bears the ThunderClan warrior’s grandkits, one of whom becomes a deputy as well. What a prestigious half-Clan family of _traitors_.”

There is no pride in Bluestar’s eyes when she hears all of this. She doesn’t even react, for she knows what’s coming next.

“Now, let me tell you an alternate ending, shall I?”

Bluestar’s tail merely flicks in agitation.

“The ThunderClan queen is betrayed by her medicine cat, of all cats. She is exiled from her Clan, to whom she has shown nothing but loyalty to in the past. She takes her kits and tries her best to lead them to safety, but do you know what happens?” Mapleshade raises her voice towards the end in heartache, voice cracking.

“All three kits _drown_ due to other cats’ negligence. They will _never_ know what it is like to hunt their own prey, or to receive their warrior name, or to become _deputy_ or _leader_. They will never know anything but kithood! They have been robbed of a life, of _existence_!” Mapleshade’s voice is a screech by the end of her sentence.

“And then the kits’ father betrays _me_. He shows off his new _RiverClan_ mate who’s expecting his kits! And the leader of RiverClan won’t even accept me into the Clan! So where do I have to go, _huh_? Tell me what options I have, O great leader of ThunderClan! Great _traitor_ leader of ThunderClan!” Mapleshade spits, claws digging vehemently into the forest floor. Her tail lashes wildly, amber eyes glowing with hatred.

“Mapleshade,” Bluestar begins, voice almost soft.

Is she _pitying_ Mapleshade? Mapleshade only snarls in reply. She doesn’t want _pity_.

“Mapleshade,” Bluestar tries again, voice harder this time. “I am ever so sorry that happened to you. If I deserved to get away with having half-Clan kits, then so did you. And no queen deserves to have her kits die—I know that feeling too, you know.”

Bluestar’s claws are still unsheathed. Moonlight glitters on their surface.

“But that is not an excuse for what you did afterwards, and it’s not an excuse for what you’re doing now,” she finishes, eyes trained on Mapleshade, ready to react if the other she-cat attacks.

A soft growl escapes Mapleshade’s lips.

“What choice did I have?” she mews quietly, though her voice is as sharp as her claws. “You are either a liar or a terrible mother if you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing.”

Bluestar freezes momentarily, as though she’s taken aback by the accusation. Perhaps she’s considering whether or not she would kill for her kits. Surely she must; surely all mothers feel the same overwhelming love and protection for their kits, the same love and protection which leads them to kill if anything harms their children.

Then Bluestar relaxes, and continues to circle Mapleshade.

“I can’t say what I would’ve done, but I know what we can both do today: keep on going in spite of everything.”

Bluestar’s pacing slows down as she pulls herself up to her full height. She gives off the impression of a wise leader advising Mapleshade. Mapleshade pulls herself up to her full height as well, tail raised to the night sky. She won’t let herself be led by Bluestar; Bluestar is no leader of hers. ThunderClan is no Clan of hers.

Bluestar doesn’t react to Mapleshade’s clear challenge, and simply continues.

“There is no changing the past, Mapleshade, but there is changing the future.”

Her eyes mist over, mind clearly elsewhere.

“I see Mosskit in StarClan, you know. Though she died many moons ago, I am not separated from her. The same could go for you and your kits. They’re in StarClan and I’ve seen them for myself,” Bluestar mews. Her eyes sharpen and she meets Mapleshade’s amber gaze. “Stop this, Mapleshade. Come with me to StarClan and be with your kits.”

Mapleshade stops. She doesn’t sheathe her claws, but the scowl painted so clearly on her face relaxes.

Her kits are in StarClan. They have made it.

All those seasons on her own, all of them spent wondering where her kits are, hoping they are safe and happy. Those kits are the only cats Mapleshade still cares about, and it’s the first she’s heard of them since they had been stolen from her.

She’s spent countless days and nights by the StarClan border, squinting her eyes against the brightness as she waits patiently, waits for all eternity, for her children. Mapleshade is not a sentimental cat: far from it. But she is a mother despite everything, and a mother can’t help but care for her kits.

_I will never stop waiting for you, my loves._

Finally, she starts to scowl again, tail lashing furiously.

“Don’t feed me nursery tales. No Dark Forest cat has ever joined StarClan. I would know; I’ve watched that shadowy place for seasons longer than any other cat.”

Bluestar nods.

“I’m aware, but there’s a first for everything. It’s never too late to do something different. Your poor kits ask daily where their mother is and why they can’t see you. No cat has the heart to break it to them. If you really love your kits, then try all you can to be with them. I promise, as the StarClan cat who can perhaps empathise with you the most, that I will try all I can to help you see your kits again.”

Mapleshade snarls loudly.

“I don’t want your empty promises! Go on, you fucking coward. Tell them. Tell my kits what their mother has become! Make them hate me. Make them wish they had a mother who could’ve saved them from their death!”

Mapleshade pants, legs shaking beneath her. She wills herself to stay standing; she won’t show weakness. She can never show weakness.

Bluestar seems torn between comforting Mapleshade like a mother comforting her kit, or not giving Mapleshade sympathy which she surely doesn’t want.

“Your kits’ death was not your fault,” Bluestar mews finally, discomfort pricking her words. Clearly she doesn’t know how to handle Mapleshade in this state.

 _Ha._ A satisfying, icy feeling spreads through Mapleshade. She has made Bluestar scared; not with her claws, but with her tongue. _You think I’m insane, don’t you? I’ll show you how insane I am, fucking bitch._

“You speak of your loyalty to ThunderClan, yet you turn your back on them and kill the very Clanmates who you claim to be loyal to. You won’t even give your kits the mother they wish they had.” Bluestar’s words have less venom in them now; she’s grasping for something to say, something to make Mapleshade join her side.

Mapleshade merely smiles at the revelation; StarClan must fear her. StarClan must know how powerful she is, how determined she is. StarClan knows that she’s a formidable cat, and they want her on their side. _Well, too bad, StarClan. It’s too late for that._

“Oh, you’d know all about causing your Clanmates trouble, wouldn’t you, Bluestar? Something about the whole of ThunderClan being traitors? I must say I agree. They are traitors indeed, with no respect or loyalty towards their queens and kits.”

Bluestar scowls. Oh, Mapleshade has struck a nerve. Good, good.

“I came to my senses. I am with my kits in StarClan now, and you are not! That is the difference between you and me!”

Mapleshade tuts mockingly, the velvety sound rippling through the air.

“The difference between you and me is far greater, my dear. You have the fortune of surviving kits and so much more.” Her faux-sweet tone drops dramatically, a growl edging her voice as she mews, “What differentiates the sinners from the saints is not what they do; it’s what others do to them.”

And it’s true; there’s nothing else Mapleshade could have done! She’s had an eternity to consider the _what if_ s, enough to know that considering the _what if_ s is a fruitless endeavour; she has chosen her path, and she’s well past the point of no return. No option would have sufficiently avenged her kits’ death, no option but seeking out the blood of all the Clans. She has truly been pushed—no, shoved—to this point by Oakstar and Ravenwing and all the stupid fucking Clan cats who have lived their comfortable lives, never challenged by hardship unlike Mapleshade.

The division between Dark Forest cats and StarClan cats is nothing but a division between the disenfranchised and the fortunate. Making StarClan see this has been long overdue.

“I’m sorry for your kits, Mapleshade. It must be awful to have a mother who doesn’t care for them.” Despite the accusation in her words, Bluestar’s voice is edged with frustration.

She has clearly been trying to neutralise one of her deadliest opponents with words, but Mapleshade isn’t that weak. She won’t surrender to some mouse-hearted leader.

“That’s rich coming from a mother who voluntarily parted with her kits and never made an effort to care for them. You even chose to leave camp with Mosskit! You killed your own kit, and yet you’re in StarClan while I’m not! You’re an awful, awful cat, Bluestar, and an even more awful mother.”

Bluestar growls deeply, though there’s less conviction behind it. Mapleshade grins maniacally. Oh, let this coward of a leader feel the guilt and pain Mapleshade has felt for seasons before Bluestar was even born! Let her suffer as Mapleshade has, let her feel the weight of being responsible for her own kit’s death!

For all the claws that have raked Mapleshade’s ragged pelt, for all the jowls that have snapped around her spine, no pain in existence compares to the pain Mapleshade feels every time she thinks about her dear kits. Nothing can compare to the burden of knowing what she has brought upon her own children.

For all the hatred she feels for the Clans, she feels for herself tenfold. She knows she’s running out of time, knows she’ll fade into nothingness sooner or later. Her seasons are numbered, and she only has so long to enact her vengeance. She hates this fate, this body she’s been trapped in, which she can only use to kill and to kill and to kill until she feels no more fulfilled than before, until her claws are broken and bleeding and her lungs scream for air she cannot give them.

 _Enough._ Only mouse-hearts fight with words instead of claws. Bluestar has basked in her glory for a lifetime too long. It’s time to bring this to an end.

Without giving Bluestar a moment to prepare, Mapleshade bunches her haunches and propels herself forwards, claws outstretched towards the blue-grey she-cat’s jugular.

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, a personal nitpick I have about this fic: the language used. In the books, cats only use [animal]-heart to mean coward, whereas here I use both the word "coward" and the word "mouse-heart" which I feel is inconsistent and it kind of bothers me, but I also feel that mouse-heart is kinda ineffective and lame-sounding tbh. Same goes for the usage of the words "throne" and "crown"; there's no equivalent which is both equally effective and which the cats also know about, and, to be more nitpicky, they don't really have a concept of the titular (and mentioned in dialogue) "sinners" and "saints". The word "alabaster" also might fall under this (how do they know what alabaster is?) and just, really, a lot of words. In case you couldn't tell, I thought about this a lot while writing this, lol. It's always going to bother me that cat-speak as established by Erin Hunter is so restrictive. Oh, and, yeah, Mapleshade drops a few F-bombs. I feel like she would, but I have no clue where she learnt them from.
> 
> Now that I've got that out, I also want to ask why Bluestar's character tag on AO3 is Bluefur and not Bluestar, considering she was introduced as Bluestar in the first book and that's what she's always called, and the first mention of Bluefur was not until years later in a prequel.


End file.
